


Invitation

by ProlixEllipsis



Series: Teatime [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fertility Issues, Rule 63, Stylistic overuse of parentheses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProlixEllipsis/pseuds/ProlixEllipsis
Summary: Kyouka reflects.





	Invitation

Haruhi had always been a model child – bright, tranquil, focused.

Stubborn, too, but Kyouka would be a hypocrite to fault her for that.

Of course, despite Haruhi’s many virtues and very few failings, there was no getting around the fact that she was a _she_ and an only child, and while Kyouka would never wish to change the former, she had to admit (in the face of 122 professional opinions from all over the world) that she _could not_ change the latter.  Haruhi was a fluke, a one-in-a-million anomaly.  It was a miracle she was conceived and an even greater one that Kyouka had managed to carry so close to term.  They hadn’t been trying for Haruhi and they had been advised, strongly advised, not to try again.  So, despite the scoffs of the Suoh matriarch, it looked as if Haruhi was destined to one day marry a suitable young man of peerless descent (a third or fourth son, superfluous enough in his own lineage that they would gladly trade his name for Suoh connections), produce a “proper” heir…and absolutely nothing more of note.

A fracture fine as a strand of spider’s silk appeared on the handle of Kyouka’s teacup and she set it down carefully, making a mental note to have the entire set replaced by morning.  Her shoulders fell a fraction in something like exhaustion as she stared down at the ice-cold cup of oolong, nearly untouched, what ripples remained dying out in the moonlight.  That particular set had been a wedding gift from Suzushima-san – what a waste.

 

* * *

 

Kyouka had wanted to study medicine.  She had been allowed to pursue a pre-med track at university, had invested countless hours in biology and chemistry lectures and labs, had graduated summa cum laude, top of her class, a standing worthy of the Ootori name and only a very deliberate quarter of a grade point below her brothers.

Of course, she hadn’t gone on to medical school.  It had been a…disappointment at the time (a bitter, crushing blow to everything she had ever believed in or hoped for).  Looking back, however, she couldn’t imagine how she could have deluded herself that it might be otherwise.  There was a path mapped out for every Ootori from the moment they were born, a role to fulfill.  Ability and ambition could only take you as far as the family required and no further.  The family hadn’t required much from a second daughter.  Still, in her own way, she’d exceeded expectations.

Instead of attending medical school, Kyouka had attended her wedding (and although she would never admit to such dramatics, it had been a close thing – in fact, every anniversary, she let Tamaki think he was surprising her and dutifully sent Fuyumi a bouquet of sunflowers and bluebells).  Her name had changed, Suoh Kyouka, but not much else.  There were still expectations and limitations and a venerable name to live up to.  She excelled, as she always had.  She smiled in just the right way and spoke to just the right people on just the right subjects.  She picked out china and wallpaper and security guards.  She was better than Tamaki at managing money, though he gave her a run for hers when it came to keeping up appearances, and his management style was oddly effective for all the inefficiency of caring about employees as individuals instead of assets (he’d probably be distressed to hear her call it a “management style”).  No, not much had changed at all, but it was the little things that mattered in the end.  Raindrops would bring down castle walls where men had tried and failed.

 

* * *

 

They’d been married for two years before people began to talk.  Well, to talk _to them_. Kyouka still suspected that gossip had been flying over their heads and under their noses for some time before Fuyumi paid her visit and cut the Gordian knot by asking, with unusual solemnity, whether her sister was truly happy with Tamaki.  After a moment of perfect shock, Kyouka had assured Fuyumi that she was perfectly satisfied with her marriage (indeed, far more than she had expected to be), and after a bit more well-meaning but ill-advised prodding she’d even bluntly admitted they’d been intimate for about one and a half years – Tamaki had been a perfect gentleman during their honeymoon rather than a dutiful husband and heir, and Kyouka had found his stubborn, chivalric reserve insulting and exasperating and a relief beyond words; when it came down to it, she’d made the first move (though she liked to think of pinning him to the bed after that day at the beach as more of a coup).   In all the time she had known him, including the six months of meetings and negotiations that constituted their engagement, Tamaki had never asked her for anything, but she had never forgotten what she was expected to provide.  They were two years into a marriage with a sex life Kyouka would describe as “healthy and vigorous” before anyone addressed the elephant in the ballroom.

It was an embarrassment to the Ootori family when the doctors discovered the problem(s).

_She_ was an embarrassment to the Ootori family when the doctors discovered _she_ was the problem.

Failure…

It was a new experience, to say the least (bitter as burnt tea and even harder to swallow). 

 

* * *

 

Kyouka’s “deficiencies,” as nearly everyone insisted on couching the issue, were the sorts of rarities that one did not waste time and resources testing for during routine physicals, the types of issues one dealt with if and when they ever presented themselves, calling in specialists to research old, isolated case files for precedent and crossing one’s fingers that there was truly any precedent at all.  She had once condensed the matter into a single sentence for Tamaki’s benefit (had screamed it at the top of her lungs so he would finally understand that it would _not_ be all right): For a storm of minute factors that would mean _nothing_ on their own and meant _everything_ in conjunction, she could not have children.

_The little things made all the difference._

She would _never_ bear an heir.

The silence had rung in her ears like a siren until a clap of thunder shattered it like so much porcelain on a pedestal.  A hushed susurration enveloped the house as the sky let loose, and in the blink of an eye (she would know, she blinked), Tamaki had embraced her with his usual, casual disregard for personal space and common sense, and insisted again, like the thick-headed optimist he was, that everything would be all right.

 

_And because luck loves fools, the universe had once again bent over backwards to indulge one of his impossible whims._

In defiance of all odds and any precedent, after eight months of waking up every day with a modestly estimated 45% chance of miscarriage hanging over their heads, there had been a tidy Cesarean that went as well as possible for coming on two weeks ahead of a recent rescheduling.  They had welcomed Suoh Haruhi into the world.

It was simple fact that Kyouka had never been given to the excessive displays of sentimentality that seemed to define her husband, but when she’d woken up after the delivery and Tamaki had escorted her to the nursery, when they’d peered in past the glass and plastic and tubes at the truly tiny little girl with the impossibly big brown eyes, it had been Kyouka who breathed out, soft and reverent, “She’s perfect.”

And for once, Tamaki had restrained himself to a nod.  They stood there in silence and awe, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, until Fuyumi had come to remind them to eat.

 

* * *

 

_'But what happens when you come to the beginning again?' Alice ventured to ask._

_'Suppose we change the subject,' the March Hare interrupted… **[1]**_

 

* * *

 

It was a calm and balmy evening at the summer beach house when Haruhi ventured to ask a question that would ultimately change nothing at all, yet still set everything into motion.

 

“May I have a baby brother?”

 

[1] Carroll, Lewis. _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_.


End file.
